


let me give you my life

by gryvon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Camboy Stiles Stilinski, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Model Peter Hale, Model Stiles Stilinski, Neckz 'n' Throats, Photo Shoots, Porn Star Peter Hale, The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/pseuds/gryvon
Summary: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stiles,” he says. He even means it. Stiles is a lovely young thing and he loves when people can keep up with his attitude. “As far as stage names go, you could do better.”Stiles huffs, but Boyd speaks up before Stiles can respond. “That’s his nickname. His real name is much worse and his cam name is stupid. Now can we get on with it?”Stiles mutters, “It’s not stupid.”“I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.” Peter takes Stiles’s hand and bows over it to press a kiss against Stiles’s knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. I look forward to ravishing you in today’s shoot.”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 67
Kudos: 2097
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	let me give you my life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rightsidethru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightsidethru/gifts).



"You're coming for Christmas, right?" Talia asks. Her voice carries an edge of holiday panic, even through the static of the phone line.

Peter rolls his eyes and bites back a grin. He doesn't want to ruin his cranky Alpha reputation by smiling fondly over his sister's antics, but he truly loves his family and he’s looking forward to seeing them over the holidays. He can picture all the tasks his sister is rushing to complete before the hoard of their extended family descend upon Beacon Hills—getting the tree up and decorated, wrapping two or three dozen presents, coordinating their family’s schedules so that everyone’s visits coincide, baking and shopping and cooking a veritable feast.

"Yes, Talia. I've got one shoot left and then I'm free until the new year. I'll be driving down on Saturday with Derek and Cora."

“And your betas?”

“They’ll be spending time with their families and joining us the day after Christmas.”

"Good. Excellent." A child cries in the background, presumably one of Laura's brood. "It'll be good to see you again."

"Because I'm so very far away..." Sacramento is a whole two hours from Beacon Hills. Two and a half if he hits rush hour traffic. He visits often enough but it’s different with packs that are also family. There’s a closeness that makes even short distances hard.

Unfortunately, three Alphas in one territory is a bit much and he’s not going to drive Laura away from home. He likes his life in Sacramento. He does, really. He has a great job and five great betas. The only thing he’s missing is-

"There's an emissary I want you to meet. I think you'll really like him."

Peter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm perfectly capable of finding my own emissary."

"It's been two years, Peter. Your pack's growing and you need an emissary. I know you haven’t liked any of the others I introduced you to, but I really think-"

"What good is someone in Beacon Hills going to do me here?"

There’s a sudden brightness in Talia’s voice. She knows he’s going to meet whatever unattached emissary she’s found this time, if only because it’ll make her happy. "He's from Beacon Hills but he lives in Sacramento. You'll like him. You're both sarcastic assholes."

Peter snorts. Boyd stares at him and points insistently at the set. The other model has arrived while he’s been on the phone. He’s a cute younger man, from what Peter can see. His arms make wide gestures as he talks to Erica. Something he says makes Erica double over laughing. Promising.

"I've got to go. I'll see you Saturday."

He hangs up before Talia can respond. He’d feel bad but she was right in calling him an asshole. He adjusts his jacket and stalks over to the newcomer.

“And what do we have here?”

The model turns with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed expression. He’s cute in his annoyance. “It’s who, not what, asshole.”

He looks younger than he obviously is. He recalls Erica mentioning that she went to high school with today’s model. Peter can see why he’s one of the most watched camboys. Peter’s never been one to watch camshows, but he might peek in on a few shows.

Most of the models Peter’s paired with are timid betas or humans who play up being prey for his wolf. Not this one. He seems ready to go toe-to-toe if Peter steps further out of line. On another day, when he’s not being paid to get along and make pretty photos, he might have pushed this model, see how worked up he could get him. Peter’s interested in a different kind of worked up this time.

Peter turns to Erica. “I like this one.”

Erica snorts and shakes her head. “Good. That was the point in pairing you two. Fenrir knows you’d be a pain for any of the other boys to handle.”

Peter and the model both nod in silent agreement. Peter grins. Today’s model is also a troublemaker, eh? This should be fun.

She moves away to check the lighting and take a few test shots with her camera. He loves working with Erica. She takes amazing photographs. It’s one of the many reasons he took her into his pack.

Peter turns back to the pretty young man. “So, you’re the camboy?” Neckz ‘n Throats is doing a special crossover issue, pairing their more popular models with camboys from their subsidiary Pupz ‘n Tails site. Chris had nothing but good things to say about his shoot with a camboy named Isaac.

He stalks a slow circle around the model, letting his eyes drag over the bits of flesh peeking out from the model’s robe. “I suppose you’ll do.”

The model rolls his eyes, unimpressed by Peter’s wolfish behavior and snarky attitude. “The name’s Stiles and you don’t intimidate me, Peter Hale, so knock it off.”

Peter grins. “You’ve heard of me?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow and stares. It reminds him of the looks Talia gives him when he’s being particularly annoying.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stiles,” he says. He even means it. Stiles is a lovely young thing and he loves when people can keep up with his attitude. “As far as stage names go, you could do better.”

Stiles huffs, but Boyd speaks up before Stiles can respond. “That’s his nickname. His real name is much worse and his cam name is stupid. Now can we get on with it?”

Stiles mutters, “It’s not stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.” Peter takes Stiles’s hand and bows over it to press a kiss against Stiles’s knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. I look forward to ravishing you in today’s shoot.”

Stiles snorts and shoves Peter away. “Nice attempt at a save but you’re going to have to do better than that. I don’t like being insulted and I don’t forgive easily.” He turns to the set and drops his robe.

For this shoot, they’ve set up a rustic scene mimicking a secluded cabin in the woods. Wooden furniture, fake fireplace, bearskin rug. A large wingback chair with dark green upholstery dominates the scene. Peter is dressed in a black suit jacket with a white button-up underneath. The top four buttons have been left undone to show his throat and a patch of chest hair.

Stiles saunters toward the chair wearing only a pair of tight, red briefs that hug his cheeks perfectly. Peter’s eyes focus on Stiles’s ass. It’s hard to look anywhere else as those round cheeks flex with every step.

The mischievous grin Stiles shoots over his shoulder only adds to his enticing appearance. “You coming?”

“That seems very likely,” Peter says. He’s half hard and they haven’t even started.

“For this shoot, we want to portray a bit of power dynamic between an Alpha werewolf and his young mate. Peter, if you could sit in the chair. Stiles, on your knees.”

Peter gladly takes his place. He spreads his legs to give Stiles room to kneel in front of him. It’s a delicious sight—Stiles looking up at him with those Bambi brown eyes, all that pale skin on display. Peter can’t help but reach out and touch. His eyes burn red as he runs a claw gently under Stiles’s chin. The boy responds beautifully, arching his neck in response to Peter’s silent command.

“Hold that.” Erica’s camera clicks madly as she circles around them.

“I find it a shame we haven’t met until now.”

Stiles hums. His skin vibrates against Peter’s claw. The boy has no fear of Peter’s wolfish features, which only makes him more enticing. “Not one for camshows?” Stiles asks, mouth moving carefully to avoid being cut.

“I feel that may be changing.” Peter is definitely watching Stiles’s next show. He wonders if Pupz ‘n Tails keeps an archive of past shows. He’s certain he can bribe Danny to find recordings if they aren’t public.

“Okay, you can move,” Erica interrupts.

Stiles turns his head to nuzzle against Peter’s palm. He looks every bit the adoring mate, enough that he almost fools Peter’s instincts into shoving Stiles down onto the rug to claim him. The soft shutter of Erica’s camera helps shatter the illusion.

“You know...” Stiles runs his hands up Peter’s thighs. He dips his chest low against the seat of the chair, undulating his hips as he slides his body forward to press against Peter’s legs. The new position sticks his ass out in delicious display. “Your videos were what got me interested in the industry. I’m oddly not disappointed that you’re an complete asshole.”

Peter smirks and leans back against the chair. He props his cheek on a fist and stares down at Stiles with red eyes, a kingly Alpha surveying his adoring servant. “A fan, are you, darling? I’m honored.”

Stiles’s grin widens. He looks good with a wicked smile on his face, like he’s ready for all sorts of mischief. They could get into wonderful mischief together, Peter thinks. He could play nice for a bit, if it will end with Stiles spread naked on his bed. Or the rug right in front of them, Peter’s not picky about location.

Stiles turns to the side. “Hey, Boyd, is your camera rolling?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Boyd says, a tone of resigned annoyance suggesting they’ve worked together often.

Stiles blinks up at Peter, his expression shifting to fake innocence. “There’s a clip I’d like for my show, if you’re game?”

Peter runs blunt fingers through the short strands of Stiles’s hair. He tilts Stiles’s head back, exposing the long column of his throat. Peter would love to sink his teeth into Stiles’s flesh but he’s not supposed to leave marks for this shoot. Pity.

“What’s that, darling?” Peter asks.

“Do you remember that video you did with Chris Argent?” Stiles asks.

Peter snorts. “You’ll have to narrow it down. I did a few.” Chris was one of the first actors Peter had worked with when he’d been a budding young porn star. They have good chemistry together, so they’ve shot at least a dozen videos together. They’ve done everything from college roommates exploring their sexuality to a hunter with a captive werewolf and the reverse.

“It was one of your earlier videos.” Stiles lays his head on Peter’s knee and looks up at him with wide doe eyes. That’s going to be a magnificent shot for the magazine and Peter’s personal masturbation fodder. “You and Argent were in this living room setup with a big brown couch. You were kneeling just like this and then...”

Stiles runs his nose along Peter’s inseam all the way to Peter’s crotch. He smirks against the fabric of Peter’s pants before schooling his expression into one of doe-eyed innocence. Peter definitely remembers the scenario Stiles is referring to. Stiles waits, not going any further until Peter meets his eyes and gives a subtle nod.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, though really Peter should be thanking Stiles for what’s about to happen.

He hisses and digs his claws into the arms of the chair as Stiles rubs his face against Peter’s clothed erection, nuzzling it like a pleased cat and Peter’s cock is the best kind of catnip. Stiles mouths at Peter’s erection. His tongue wets the front of Peter’s pants. It’s hard not to press himself against Stiles’s mouth. He’s not used to giving up control, but he’s interested in seeing how far Stiles plans to go.

Stiles’s hands don’t move from Peter’s thighs as he gets Peter’s zipper between his teeth and pulls. He holds Peter’s gaze as he drags the zipper all the way down, leaving Peter’s pants gaping open. The pink tip of Stiles’s tongue peeks out of his pretty mouth to slide through the slit of Peter’s boxers. Peter growls. He wants to grab Stiles’s head and hold him in place against Peter’s crotch, but that’s not how this scene goes.

Erica’s camera clicks so fast it’s hard to tell where one shot begins and ends.

“You like that?” Stiles says, as smug as can be.

Peter releases a long breath and responds with a hint of growl. “I would think that was obvious.”

“Hmm. Let’s see.” Stiles’s hands move, finally, unbuttoning Peter’s pants and diving a hand in to pull Peter’s erection free.

“Stiles!” Erica yelps. “This isn’t that kind of shoot!”

“It is now,” Stiles responds, right before swallowing Peter down to the root.

Peter throws his head back against the chair. He’s going to have to reimburse the props department for the chair. His claws are ripping the ends to shreds, but he doesn’t care. He’s going to put the chair in his apartment and sit in it while watching Stiles’s videos and jerking off.

“Fuck, your mouth is the best part of you,” Peter hisses.

Stiles pops off long enough to say, “I’m a fucking delight,” before proving that he is such a delight. His mouth is warm and wet, and he knows exactly how to use his tongue to make Peter writhe against the chair. His hips buck up slightly—he’s having trouble keeping still—and Stiles moans. The pleasant vibration against his cock makes Peter shudder.

He loses track of Erica and Boyd. Their presence is trivial compared to the beautiful boy between his thighs. Stiles bobs like he was made to suck cock, like he can’t exist without Peter’s seed in his mouth. He’s tenacious in rooting out Peter’s pleasure. Peter couldn’t reign in his wolf if he wanted to. He growls, low and hungry for more.

Stiles grabs Peter’s right wrist and moves Peter’s hand to the back of Stiles’s head. Peter is very aware of his sharp claws set against the man’s delicate skin. He forces his fingers loose so he doesn’t break Stiles’s skin. The intention is obvious. Peter gladly obliges. He pushes Stiles’s head down and bucks his hips up. Stiles moans around him in delicious reward. He likes being used as much as Peter is enjoying using him. Stiles moves his hands back to Peter’s thighs, giving complete control over to Peter.

It’s heady, the trust Stiles places in him, a total stranger. Peter has no delusions about who’s really in control here. Stiles is ostensibly at Peter’s mercy but one word, one pained flinch from Stiles will bring this all to a halt. He’s chasing his pleasure in Stiles’s mouth and Stiles allows it.

“Fuck,” Peter hisses. He closes his eyes. He can’t hold himself back while looking at the beautiful boy. “You need stop unless you want me coming down your throat.”

Stiles squeezes Peter’s thighs and hollows his cheeks as he sucks Peter down.

“As you wish.”

He holds Stiles’s head in place and fucks up into Stiles’s mouth. The air is thick with the scent of arousal—his, Stiles’s, Erica’s, and Boyd’s, none of them are unaffected by the scene Stiles has set—and precum. He can smell how wet Stiles is, how eager he is to have Peter come in his mouth. How could Peter possibly resist?

He comes with a roar. He looks directly at Erica’s camera, giving her what will likely be a fantastic shot of a possessive Alpha in the throes of pleasure. It’s hard to force his hand off Stiles’s head. He watches intently as Stiles pulls away. Stiles’s eyes are half-mast with pleasure, his lips swollen red. Stiles licks his lips, obviously pleased with himself.

Peter grabs Stiles under the shoulders and pulls him up to straddle Peter’s lap. He gives in to the desire to scent Stiles’s throat. The boy arches into it, tilting his head to the side to give Peter full access. He drags his fangs over the join of Stiles’s neck and shoulder, making Stiles gasp and shiver. Stiles’s scent tells Peter exactly how much Stiles is into Peter’s possessive behavior.

His hands close on Stiles’s hips. He presses his palms against Stiles’s skin, feeling the softness of his flesh as he runs his hands down and over Stiles’s perfect ass. It’s as soft and plump as it looked. He slips his hands under the fabric to grab two handfuls of ass and squeeze. Stiles moans, loud and wanton as any veteran porn star. Peter smells the burst of precum that joins the wetness soaking the front of Stiles’s briefs.

“Hold that,” Erica demands. They freeze, barely breathing until she releases them with a quick, “Okay, go.”

Peter pulls his claws back so he can press a blunt fingertip against Stiles’s entrance. “I’m going to fuck you,” he promises. “Gonna make you scream my name while I fill you up.”

Stiles chuckles. His eyes sparkle and he presses back against Peter’s finger. “Are you?”

Peter growls. Erica and Boyd both flinch, responding to the show of their Alpha’s power. Stiles—delicious, gorgeous, intriguing Stiles—just smiles and meets Peter’s gaze.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Peter grins around his fangs. He pulls Stiles tight against his chest. He keeps one hand on Stiles’s ass, fingers teasing the boy’s rim, while the other comes around to grab Stiles through the fabric of his briefs. He grinds his palm against Stiles’s erection.

“Is this for me, sweet thing?”

“For now.” Stiles rubs against Peter’s palm.

“Are you going to come for me?”

Stiles smirks. “Are you going to make me?”

There’s a beautiful flush on Stiles’s face. It makes his moles stand out, a constellation Peter wants to map with his tongue. Stiles’s breathing is labored, uneven with desire. He’s not as lust-fogged as Peter would like, but it’ll do. Peter wants to lay Stiles across Peter’s bed and drive him mad with teasing touches. He wants to make Stiles beg and scream as Peter fucks him into the mattress. He wants to take Stiles, to possess and own him and be possessed and owned in return.

He grips Stiles tight and jerks him hard and fast until Stiles’s eyes are rolling back in his head and he’s coming with his lips parted in a soundless cry.

Stiles slumps against Peter as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He pants against Peter’s shoulder, shivering and twitching through the aftershocks. Peter presses his face against Stiles’s throat and inhales deeply. The scent of Stiles’s pleasure is intoxicating.

“Come home with me,” Peter orders, voice deep and commanding.

Stiles chuckles and sits up. He pats Peter on the chest. “No.”

Before Peter can even think of a comeback, Stiles is off his lap and across the room, bending to pick up his robe and show off that gorgeous ass that Peter wants—no, needs—to bury his cock in.

“We done here?” Stiles asks Erica, who’s already back at her computer reviewing today’s shoot.

“Yeah, get out of here, troublemaker.”

Stiles leaves with a wave, not even gracing Peter with a backwards look.

“You’re paying for the chair,” Boyd says.

Peter tucks himself back into his pants and stands on slightly wobbly legs. “I know.” He looks down at the chair and then back at the door Stiles left through. “What the hell just happened?”

“Welcome to Stiles,” Boyd says with a shrug. “You get used to it.”

He needs Stiles in his pack. He needs Stiles and he will move heaven and earth to make it happen.

Peter stalks out of the room. He needs a plan of attack if he wants to win this.

* * *

Peter shows up at Talia’s house in Beacon Hills in a grumpy mood. Talia takes one look at him, rolls her eyes, and looks to Cora. “What’s wrong with him?”

Cora grins. She’s been far too pleased with Peter’s failed campaign to woo Stiles into his bed. “Someone told Peter no and it’s driving him nuts.”

Talia snorts. It’s an unpleasant sound, if only because she’s using it to mock him. She pats his shoulder. “Poor baby. Come meet our guest.”

Right, the emissary. Peter’s in no mood to deal with whatever stranger Talia wants him to make nice with. He wants Stiles. He grumbles and stalks into the living room, prepared to tell whatever unfortunate soul is waiting that they can leave.

What he finds instead is Stiles, lounging in the armchair Peter usually takes over when he visits, like he belongs in Peter’s space. Like he owns it.

“Hello, Peter,” Stiles says with a cheeky wave. He’s fully dressed this time—a pity—but one of his legs is thrown over the arm of the chair, giving Peter a delightful view.

Talia looks between them with a raised eyebrow. “You know each other?”

“We’ve met,” Stiles says.

Peter stalks across the room and drops to his knees next to the chair. He takes Stiles’s wrist in both his hands and turns it so Stiles’s delicate inner wrist is below his lips. He noses at the skin first, breathing in the scent, memorizing it, before placing a kiss over Stiles’s pulse.

“Marry me,” Peter says.

Stiles’s laugh is music. His fingers brush against Peter’s cheek. “How about a date first?”

“Oh, Fenrir,” Talia says in the background. Peter ignores her.

“Will you be my emissary?”

Stiles smiles at him. It’s delightful. “Date first, then we’ll see.”

Peter rises, using his grip on Stiles’s wrist to pull him to his feet. “There’s a lovely steak and seafood restaurant downtown. They have a wonderful wine selection.”

Stiles tilts his head in agreement. “I could eat.”

Talia frowns as they pass, heading to the front door. “Dinner’s going to be ready in ten minutes.”

“Eat without us,” Peter says. He grins at his sister. “And don’t wait up. I may get a room downtown for the night.”

“Bit overconfident, aren’t you?” Stiles winks at Talia. “He’ll be back.”

Peter growls and pushes Stiles against the nearest wall. He devours Stiles’s mouth in a bruising kiss full of promise. Stiles lets him. The feeling of Stiles grinning against Peter’s lips only makes the desire stronger, cementing Peter’s need.

“Peter,” Talia hisses, “the children.”

He can hear Laura’s young ones playing upstairs. They’re in no danger of seeing too much.

Stiles pushes Peter away with a hand on his chest. He’s grinning. “I may keep your brother for the night, Talia, if he behaves.”

“I may behave,” Peter says, kissing a line up the arm Stiles had used to push him away, “given appropriate incentive.”

Talia pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just get out of here. Both of you.”

“Gladly.” Peter guides Stiles out with a hand on the small of his back. He’s going to win Stiles into his pack or die trying. It would be the sweetest of deaths but the rewards of winning even sweeter.


End file.
